


Scars

by RandomRyu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, M/M, Scars, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomRyu/pseuds/RandomRyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade hates his scars. He's gotten shunned, beaten up, almost killed, and even more because of them. He covers up wherever he goes and hates to show them, even around his partner, Peter. Peter never saw them, but with this one trip to Wade's apartment he finally sees them for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

Wade hated his scars. He never showed them to anyone at all, and the most he has ever shown was to the bridge of his nose to his chin and part of his neck—he couldn't eat with the mask over his mouth, now could he? That would be impossible. The only time he took off his mask was to take a shower, and even so he didn't even glance in the general direction in the mirror, keeping his gaze down on the floor, the sink, anywhere other than his ugly reflection or his body.

His hands were always covered by some sort of glove, let it be leather or cotton. That also showed his skin. He never wore shorts—always jeans or sweatpants. It didn't matter how hot it was or how humid it was, he could not leave the house without covering every inch of his scarred skin. When it showed or something slipped off, like a part of his mask or glove, he would be mortified and fix it as quick as he possibly could; and when he was eating he would try to sit somewhere where there wasn't much people or none at all, and he would eat fast. Of course he would get stares for wearing his mask around normally and wearing out of season clothing in the summer and spring, but he got used to them. It just became a part of everyday life and he had to accept it.

Wade never trusted anyone before Peter came into his life. Peter lit up his day easily, never treated him as though he was different, and he loved him. He truly loved him. He wasn't like one of those one night stands, wasn't to be used and thrown out. When Wade was feeling down Peter would hold him close, talk to him, and just make him feel plain loved. They kissed, but they never went further than that. Wade wasn't a virgin, that's for sure, but after he had gotten the scars his self esteem dropped so far down that it couldn't be picked up again no matter what words were said. But even so, Peter made him happy and didn't urge him to take off to mask, take off the gloves, jacket- to show the ugly skin hiding underneath filled with welts and discoloration—ugly.

Wade was snapped from his thoughts when his phone went off, instantly unlocking the lock screen by tapping in a four digit code and reading the message that had popped up—it was from Peter, as usual. He was really the only person that texted him.

I miss you, Wade. Can I visit you?

Wade thought about the question for a moment. Peter's dads didn't like him, they didn't like him one bit. They deemed him a trouble maker and caused chaos wherever he went. He let out a little chuckle thinking about it, it was true. He would embarrass Peter in front of Tony and Steve, have a big mouth and snappy comebacks to whatever was said to him; in no time he was kicked out of the family's house and told not to come back for a long while. It didn't mean that Peter couldn't sneak out and make his way to Wade's apartment, which they both had been doing for the past few weeks or so. Wade wasn't bother by the shunning, he was used to it, but Peter on the other hand was crushed. Wade understood this though, and he was sweet to Peter as usual to make him feel better about it. Anyway, they couldn't kick him out forever. He was Deadpool, he had his ways to convince people things.

He realized his mind had wandered off and he started to type back up a reply to Peter.

Of course. Just come right over, I'll be waiting outside as usual.

Wade hopped up off the couch, pulling on his mask and gloves. Doing this became something he did without thinking, just part of life. He made his way down the stairs and out the front door, leaning on the wall, letting his arms cross over his chest. The air was humid and moist, making Wade quickly warm up and become uncomfortable. If only I was normal, I could be wearing regular clothes right now and not dying of heat stroke, he thought to himself, sighing.

It didn't take long for him to see Peter bound up to him, a somewhat crooked, dorky smile plastered on his face. He was wearing his glasses, probably having been too lazy or too rushed to put in his contacts at the time—it was around three in the morning , also. His dads were asleep and if he woke one of them up by being loud it would be the end of him, and definitely no more Wade for the rest of his life.

"Wade!" Peter called out, Wade uncrossing his arms and standing up to his full height, bending down slightly to hug Peter; his hands snaking around the smaller man's waist. Peter's arms went up to wrap around Wade's shoulders and the taller man smiled behind his mask. "I missed you," The younger man said, sadness showing on his face and in his eyes, frowning. He hated that his Dads felt that way about Wade. Wade wasn't a bad person. Peter thought he was perfect. At least that's what he thought.

"I missed you too, Pete," Wade ruffled Peter's hair and chuckled. Peter was too cute. His cuteness is going to be the death of me someday, He thought to himself. Both made their way upstairs, and once they were in Wade's apartment he closed the door and locked it so no one would try and break in or such. The apartment he was staying in had a few break ins in its time. He wasn't bothered by it, he had no problem killing trespassers. He just didn't want his belongings to be stolen.

They both plopped down on the couch, Wade's arms wrapped around Peter as the smaller male rested his head on Wade's chest, his arms wrapped around him loosely as he merely enjoyed the other's presence. The dim light of the television illuminated them and a man droned on about politics on the background. Wade really didn't care much for politics, he had no need to care. He didn't vote, anyway.

"Wade?" Peter glanced up at Wade, his head still resting on his chest, hearing the other man's heartbeat as it raced. Even though it was beating fast he didn't comment on it.

"Yes?" Wade snapped out of whatever he was thinking about and looked down at Peter, focusing all of his attention on him. He wondered what he had to say. It had to be a question.

"Can I kiss you?" Peter always had to ask before they kissed. He didn't know exactly about the scars since they never kissed with their eyes open, never saw each other as they were locking lips, never looked into each other's eyes as they went through this little act of love. It didn't matter anyway- it still showed the emotion they had for each other, and even so—Wade's eyes were covered.

After a moment of thinking Wade nodded and Peter raised his hands up lace his fingers under the bottom of the mask; closing his eyes first. He respected what Wade told him to do, and he listened. He lifted up the mask until he felt it was at the right area, resting on the bridge of his nose; pushing his lips against Wade's, the older man not hesitating to kiss back. His eyes were also closed behind the red, black, and white fabric.

Before either could pull way, the kiss got more heated and the surrounding aura got hot and heavy; both devouring each other's mouths with passion and need. Peter moved so he was sitting in Wade's lap, his arms wrapped around the other's shoulder's while Wade's pulled the boy even closer as they gripped Peter's hips.

They had their good share of make out sessions before, but this was different. The aura around them was more heavy and things were moving so quickly. It has been a good few years since Wade has had contact like this with anyone at all, and he craved the sweet, addicting feeling of pleasure. His hands pushed at the ends of Peter's jacket and shirt, the cotton of the gloves he was wearing running along Peter's skin. Peter craved to feel the warmth of the other's skin, but he knew not to say anything.

More friction, gasping, and heavy breathing before Peter slipped his fingers under the mask of Wade's and pulled it clean off.

Wade's eyes shot open and he froze, tensing up. No. No, this couldn't be happening. He could see him, he could see his ugly face. Everything stopped at once and the feeling of pleasure instantly left the older man and he covered his scarred face with his hands. He was pretty sure Peter was staring at him—staring at him in disgust and fear.

"Don't look at me," Wade muttered out, it was very hard to speak for him at this moment. He was mortified, showed completely to the one he loved. But why haven't they run yet? Why haven't he cussed at him yet, hurt him, anything? "I'm ugly. These scars are ugly."

There was a moment of silence before he heard Peter speak up.

"Wade, look at me," He demanded, though it wasn't harsh. His voice was soft and sweet, gentle. Wade hesitated, peeking through his fingers before letting his hands fall from his face. His blue eyes stared right into Peter's chocolate brown ones, tears pricking at the sides of them. The expression on Wade's face as a mixture of embarrassment, anger, sadness, and regret.

"I'm ugly. These scars are ugly," Wade repeated, his voice cracking as he still locked eyes with Peter. His hands were in fists at the sides of him, shaking slightly as his palms were sweating underneath the black cotton gloves. Peter frowned, hating seeing his significant other this way. Taking a deep breath, trying not to cry also, he raised one of his hands to gently run his fingers along Wade's cheek and cup his face in both his hands. The skin of Wade's face was bumpy from the odd looking scars, but he didn't care one bit.

"Wade," Peter began," I don't care if your skin is scarred. I don't care how ugly you are. To be honest, you're very handsome. Your eyes are beautiful. Look at you. How could someone resist this handsome face?" A small chuckle came from Peter. "I love you. I love you and like I said, I don't care what you look like. You have scars, so what? They don't define who you are. I just care about you, I care about Wade, the charming, funny, witty, clever Wade that makes my day whenever I see him and feel his arms wrap around me and hold me close…" Peter was smiling from ear to ear as he said this, Wade listening in and focusing all of his attention on the man sitting on his lap and telling him all these positive words.

"I love you, Wade. And nothing is going to change that," Peter closed off his small speech by leaning forward and pressing his lips up against Wade's, his hands still cupping his cheeks. After he pulled back, he let his arms wrap around Wade's shoulders again and waited for a reaction.

Wade never heard such kind words to him, no one had ever poured their heart out like that. He pulled off the gloves covering his equally scarred hands; letting his arms wrap around Peter's hips yet again as they both got comfortable.

"No one has ever said that to me before," Wade spoke up when he found his voice to speak. His eyes were watering and he had a smile on his face. A content smile, not a fake one he would wear as he passed strangers or talked to someone he didn't know (which he rarely did), a true smile. "Is that all true?" He wanted to make sure.

"Of course. Why would I lie to you?" Peter said, sounding very truthful.

"I love you too," Came Wade's response after another silent moment. He wished this moment would never end, both of them holding each other close and spending time with each other, treasuring it. He felt as though stress was lifted off of him and the depression that had overwhelmed him stopped for a long moment.

The moment was short lived, cut off by Peter's phone ringing loudly and echoing throughout the small apartment.


End file.
